Caramel Popcorn

So I was thinking on my drive home today.  The alone time in the car often causes this.  And I started to think about caramel popcorn, well not exactly caramel popcorn.  But how caramel popcorn is or could be used to explain at least part of my life.

Caramel popcorn would taste very good.  It would be nice to have some caramel popcorn.  Now, I do have popcorn.  I even have all of the ingredients to make the caramel.  Thinking about caramel popcorn makes me want to have it even more.

But what happens if I decide to go ahead and make it?  I might burn the popcorn while popping it.  Then it would be ruined.  I don't want to eat burnt popcorn.  I would have to throw it away, and that would be a waste of resources and time.

Though maybe I do pop the corn and it turns out fine.  At this point I might scorch the caramel.  I could not then make caramel popcorn.  I would have wasted those ingredients.  Yes, I could still eat the popcorn.  That might be fine.  It might not be bad, but it would not have been what I truly wanted.

Lets say that I get the corn popped and the caramel made.  I finish the caramel popcorn and it is perfect.  I eat it only to find out that it wasn't really what I wanted.  Or maybe I eat too much and get a sick.  This would definitely not have been the outcome I was hoping for.  

So now that I have thought about this caramel popcorn for a very long time I have to decide if it is better to leave those ingredients in the cupboard, safe and unspoiled.  Or if I take a chance on one of the many possible outcomes.  Is it worth the effort?  Do I stand still and think about it or do I take a risk?

Caramel Popcorn

1 cup butter

2 cups brown sugar

1/2 cup corn syrup

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

5 quarts popped popcorn

Directions

Preheat oven to 250 degrees F (95 degrees C). Place popcorn in a very large bowl.

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt butter. Stir in brown sugar, corn syrup and salt. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Boil without stirring 4 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in soda and vanilla. Pour in a thin stream over popcorn, stirring to coat.

Place in two large shallow baking dishes and bake in preheated oven, stirring every 15 minutes, for 1 hour. Remove from oven and let cool completely before breaking into pieces.

Lost Socks

I can't believe that I haven't written here since September.  Yes, (for those who are paying attention to these things) I know I added a post here yesterday.  But in the time line of my life, this post actually happened first.  Hehe..  It happened on December 9th, 2013 or at least the story happened on the 9th.  I sat down and wrote both of these posts on the same day, and decided to save this one until today.

A very interesting thing happened to me.  It all started just about a year ago...

December 2012:  I received a Christmas present from my nephew, Eli.  Eli was at the time 3 years old.  I liked to play with him, teasing him about his socks.  I would ask him if I could have or wear his socks.  He had some very fun socks.  Of course he would always tell me they were his, or they wouldn't fit me.  Now Eli had drawn my name for Christmas, so of course when it came time to buy me something he thought of socks.  He picked out some colorful fun socks in hopes that I would stop trying to steal his, I'm sure.  Of course when I opened up this gift I smiled at our little joke.  The next day I wore a pair of my new socks.  I made sure to show Eli that I was wearing the socks that he had given me.

Then into the laundry basket went my socks as all dirty socks do.  I, sometime that week, did the wash.  But was surprised when only one of the socks came out of the dryer.  I was sure that I must have missed one of them.  Maybe it had fallen from the basket.  Maybe it was hidden under my bed or dresser.  I went and checked.  But no sock.  

Now this was a mystery.  Unlike my children who can lose a sock right off of their foot, I normally have no problem keeping my clothes in my hamper.  After searching my bedroom and the laundry room I still was not able to find this sock.  So I placed the sad, lonely sock on my cedar chest, knowing that the other must have just gotten inside of my shirts or something.  It would show up.

Well, after a couple of weeks it didn't.  Which I found strange.  But what could I do about it?

Of course that is an easy answer, I could write a story about it.  Thus came the idea for my short story, "Lost Socks."  I talked to my kids about what happens to socks when they go missing.  They laughed and thought it was a great idea.  So I wrote it.  When it was finished, I read the story to my children.  They loved it.

I played with the story for a while longer, then I sent it off to a writing contest for a local Con.  All the while my one lonely sock was still setting there on my cedar chest.  A month or so later, I heard back from the writing contest, my story had won!  This was an amazing day for me.  A first in my life.

When the convention came around I went with my kids.  They made me stand in front of everyone at opening ceremonies and gave me my prize.  We took my "prize," a gift card to Barnes and Noble, and picked out something to take home with us.  

Now months and months have passed since I lost my sock and since the convention.  I had not thought much about the sock.  It was just gone.  I still didn't know how it had disappeared.  But I didn't really worry about it.

In the summer, I decided to send "Lost Socks" to my critique group.  This is also a first for me, and very terrifying.  But it was a good thing for me to do.  I got back a lot of helpful suggestions.  These suggestions I used to edit my story and hopefully make it better.  Then last month, on my Grandpa's birthday, I submitted "Lost Socks."  There is reason that this is significant to me.  This date 11/22, Grandpa's birthday (or at least the date that we celebrated his birthday) means something to me.  Grandpa is a big reason that I am a writer.  My Grandpa will never read one of my stories, he died 13 years ago.  Submitting "Lost Socks" on his birthday felt like I was giving him a birthday present.

But this is not where this story ends.  December 9th, I did a load of my laundry.  This basket was my clothes, not my children's.  There was nothing unusual about it.  When it was finished I carried the basket to my room where I began to fold the clothes.  I put things away in my drawers.  And when I looked into the basket, the very last item there was my sock!  The sock that had now been missing for nearly a year.  The sock that I had looked everywhere for.  The sock that was the inspiration for my story.

Of course I didn't believe that it was THE SOCK.  Somehow the one from my cedar chest must have gotten into the laundry.  I went to check, but it was still there.  Now holding both of these socks in my hand, I figured that someone must have found the second sock.  Maybe it had been behind or under the dryer.  It couldn't have just appeared in my laundry basket.  So I went to ask.  But no, no one had seen it; no one had touched it.  Somehow after almost a year the missing sock had found its way back into my basket, into my life.

I can't explain it.  Had it been stuck in the washing machine or the dryer for a year?  Had it just now fallen out, and in a load of MY CLOTHES, not someone else's?  Or had the sock gremlin decided to give me back my sock?  No matter what it was, this has been a very interesting experience.  I wondered last night if maybe it meant I was supposed to write another story.  I will have to give that a little more thought.  But no matter what happened, it was a very good thing for me that I lost this one sock last December.  I will have to let you know (as soon as I know myself) what it means to me that the missing sock has been found.

Pieces of Me

Yesterday I spent some time looking at my bookshelves.  I own 1,000's of books.  There are bookshelves in every room of my house.  I cannot say that I have read every book on every shelf, and yet when I go to the bookstore I still want to buy more books.

While I was looking at my shelves I was wondering if maybe I should pass on some of these treasures.  Some day I may want to move and when you consider that I have more books than anything else, surely I don't NEED all of these books.

So many of the books on my shelves have a story.  They mean something.  There is a reason that I own that particular book.  They are pieces of me.



I have hand-me-down books that were passed to me when I was a toddler.  The Big and Growly Bear
I have books that I got in elementary school.  The Hungry Caterpillar
My first copy of the Lord of the Rings that I bought with my own money in 5th or 6th grade.
Even my college Calculus book sits on my shelf.
There are books I bought for my classroom or books I bought for my children.
These books have been boxed up and carried with me throughout my life.  I look at them and remember them, as if they are old friends.

There are even some books on my shelf that are painful reminders of things lost or broken.  Gifts from friends who have died, or pieces of broken dreams.  And yet I hold on to these books as well.

These books tell the story of my life.  They are who I was at that time in my life.  They are pieces of me.

This fall I have been working hard at finding what I really want, who I am, and where I want to be.  So as I looked at the books on my many shelves I wondered if it was time to let some of these things go, maybe make room for some new books, new pieces of me.

I pulled several books off of the shelf and made a pile on the floor.  I flipped through the pages and held them in my hands.  There are some books I know I do not need.  They were bought for a purpose.  But for one reason or another I do not need them anymore.  There are others that I held; I knew I would likely not need them, but yet couldn't put them in the pile to give away.  They had to stay in my "maybe" pile.

Several years ago, we 'down-sized' our library.  The room in our house that we used as a library was needed for other purposes.  We donated 1,000's of books to the library that was opening in our small town.  It was interesting to note that after they were gone, I looked for several of those books upon occasion, only to remember that I had given it away.  Some of them I even went back and purchased again.

So now as I consider doing this again I question if it is something I should do.  Will I miss those books?  Will I find I need the book only a month or two after taking it off of my shelf?  I think I will go slowly here.  I will take the books I know I do not need or want, just a small box or two at a time and remove them from my house.  But I will leave any that I question until I am sure about them.

Part of me is excited about the chance to put new books on my shelf.  It is time to find new pieces of me.  As I seem to be speaking only of real life books, it is truly not just books that I am talking about.  But I have come to see that the books are really just a physical symbol for what I have been doing emotionally.  There are parts of my life or myself that I can leave behind.  These things are not a part of me any longer.  I should not hold on to them.

When I imagine my dream house, I know that it is a place that will be filled with books.  I will carry these pieces of my life with me.  Anyone who looks at my bookshelves will be able to see photos of who I am and where I have been.  Some of these maybe be torn or faded.  Some maybe be held together with tape.  But all of them are pieces of me, things I have learned or done as I have grown into the person I am now.


So what books do you have on your bookshelf?